


Mutually Beneficial Arrangements in Camelot, circa 520 A. D.

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Series: Merlin Episodes: AUs, Missing Scenes, and Inspired By [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode: s01e01 Dragon's Call, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fix-It, Homophobia, Infertility, Lonely Arthur, Lonely Merlin, M/M, Manipulative Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Mentions of miscarriage, Merlin Canon Fest, Missing Scene, POV Multiple, Past Character Death, Prophecy, Self-Doubt, Uther Knows About Merlin’s Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Merlin is horrified when his introduction to Camelot is the king executing a magic user, but little does he know that Uther Pendragon’s war on magic has one exception...And his name is Merlin.This is the story of why.





	Mutually Beneficial Arrangements in Camelot, circa 520 A. D.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merlin Canon Fest 2019 - Episode 1X01: The Dragon’s Call
> 
> Many thanks to my amazing betas, Pelydryn and Schweet Heart.
> 
> **Disclaimer**: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**~*~Uther~*~ **

“It’s your wife, sire,” Leonidas whispered as he handed the king a quill and pointed to the place on the parchment where Uther needed to sign. “She will come back later if you’re too busy.” 

Uther nodded and looked towards the door. He was in the midst of doing one of a million things that required his attention in order to prepare for the upcoming meeting with Caerleon’s newly crowned king (whose name just so happened to also be Caerleon). He was woefully behind schedule, yet he found himself loath to send Ygraine away. 

He saw so little of her as it was these days. 

He had returned only the day before from a week-long excursion to the other side of the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and his wife had been busy caring for a newborn whose father had been killed by bandits a fortnight past. The child’s mother had taken ill and was near death. 

Uther returned his attention to the scroll and signed it, rolled it up, and handed it to Leonidas with a wry grin. “Before Ygraine, I never thought anyone would be more important than a peace treaty,” he said, his voice wistful, still unable to believe that Ygraine DeBois had agreed to become his wife even though it had been two years since that most wonderful day. “Send her in and inform the others that we will resume our talks after lunch.” 

He moved several parchments from the seat next to his so Ygraine would have a place to sit before turning back towards the doorway, where his wife stood, looking pensive. The baby they had taken into their home was asleep in her arms. Uther nodded and smiled as he motioned towards the chair next to his. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Ygraine carefully handed Uther the child before sitting down, and when the baby made a face, most likely as a result of dreaming, she smiled and looked into her husband’s eyes. “I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life than this little one.” 

Uther grinned. He opened his mouth to say that he had indeed seen someone more perfect and that she was seated before him, but he thought it wise to agree with his wife. “He is.” A shaky breath followed and Uther wished for nothing more in that moment for the child to be his and Ygraine's. 

But the baby boy was not his, and in a few weeks the infant would probably be back with his family. 

Uther took the small hand in his and marveled at how tiny it was — it made his stubby fingers appear huge. And when the infant’s mouth began moving, as if he were eating, the king was nearly overwhelmed with the thought that this little one was completely dependent on others for his every need. 

What a tremendous responsibility he and his wife had taken on. 

How was it that a fortnight could so completely alter one's perception? 

He hadn’t wanted an infant in his home for selfish reasons — having a baby in his care would no doubt stir up memories that neither he nor his wife were ready to deal with, and his best friend and advisor, Leonidas, and his wife were soon to welcome a baby of their own. It was obvious the proud father-to-be was excited (and more than a little nervous), but almost on a daily basis, he shared with Uther how much his and his wife's lives were already changed. 

A resolute Uther had tried valiantly to say no to his wife when she asked if they could care for the child, his reasoning that they were too busy with their duties in Camelot. Yet here the always busy-running-his-kingdom king was, already mournful about the future emptiness that was sure to descend when the baby left. 

He looked over at Ygraine in awe, thankful that there was one person in this world who could change his mind. She didn’t care that he was the _king_. He might hold a powerful position that placed him above most others, and yes, he fed off of that and used it to his advantage. But when he entered his chambers at the end of the day, he needed someone to help him remember that beneath the crown he was Uther Pendragon, a former nobody who, if not for luck and good timing, would still be living on the outside looking in. 

Uther would do anything to make Ygraine happy. 

“Have you found another wet nurse for him?” he asked as he stared, mesmerised at Ygraine and then the sleeping child’s sweet face. 

“The blacksmith’s wife,” she replied solemnly. 

“She was the one who gave birth last night and the baby died, yes?” The only reason Uther knew this was because his wife had attended the birth. 

Ygraine nodded but said nothing, her recent experiences no doubt at the forefront of her thoughts. 

What Uther wouldn’t give for his wife to be with child at this very moment. 

A baby was the only thing she didn’t have that she longed for, and she wasn’t the only one. Now that Uther had discovered that he was not as against a baby as he had previously thought, he wanted a child just as much as Ygraine. He needed to be the loving, attentive, and present father he’d never had. 

He was hopeful it would happen one day, but if it did, it wasn’t likely to happen via normal means. 

Three pregnancies had ended with the babies coming much too early to live, and the last had nearly claimed his wife’s life. Fortunately, Gaius had been able to remove the lifeless child and save Ygraine, but the traumatic experience had left her weakened, and Uther knew she felt as if she was a failure because she couldn’t give her husband an heir, a feat that was imperative for the future of the kingdom. 

Or so she thought…. 

Unbeknownst to Ygraine, her husband wasn’t exactly desperate for an heir. He had fathered a beautiful baby girl two years before he and Ygraine met, but unless he was forced to, he had no plans to reveal the result of his indiscretion with the wife of one of his best friends. 

Luckily, Uther had other means at his disposal to assure Camelot a Pendragon heir. 

“I am on my way there now,” Ygraine said as she looked towards the window. “This little one will be ready to eat when he wakes, but I wanted to come see how you were faring. You have seemed distant recently,” she added as she returned her attention to her husband. 

She reached out with a hand and wiped something off of Uther’s face, and chuckled when he raised his eyebrows. “I think you enjoy your chocolate almost as much as you enjoy the art of getting what you want.” 

Uther had a thousand retorts to give, but he merely nodded curtly, although he was unable to conceal a small smile. Not that he would ever confirm as much to Ygraine, of course, but his wife’s ability to read him so completely never ceased to amaze him. Yes, he did have the ability to work almost any situation in his favour, but not all. 

Ygraine’s intuitiveness was not to be matched, and while she remained silent for the most part and allowed her husband to rule as he saw fit (even when it was blatantly clear that she disagreed), when she set her mind to it, she could halt her husband’s movements with a mere look. 

He and Ygraine rarely discussed the goings-on of his day-to-day dealings — the kingdom was his to run, and he didn’t want to burden her with circumstances she need not fret about — but hadn’t she told Uther the day they married that she wanted to lessen his burden whenever possible? 

Not that she could do anything tangible to make things easier for him in his negotiations with the Druids, but her mere presence and willingness to listen would go a long way to lessen his burden. What more could a man ask for from his wife? Uther was a lucky man, indeed. 

He stood and carefully returned the child to Ygraine’s arms as he walked to the head of the table and rifled through a stack of parchments, searching for just the thing that would surely brighten his wife’s day. “There has been trouble with the Druids near Caerleon’s lands these past few weeks. Leonidas and Kay tell me there is talk of a prophecy.” 

Finding the parchments, he walked back to Ygraine and handed them to her, pleased when she grinned at the drawings the children of his knights had made for her. 

“You should consult with Nimueh,” she said, a small inkling of concern on her face as she placed the parchments in her cloak pocket and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “She has returned from the Crystal Cave. I am confident she can mediate between the leaders of the Druids and Camelot if any trouble should arise.” 

“I have already done so,” Uther said matter-of-factly, proud of himself, but he didn’t quite look his wife in the eyes as he shared this information because he hadn’t merely asked her to help mediate — he had asked Nimueh to help him and Ygraine conceive an heir. 

He had done so for two reasons: first, he had heard stories about the Druids’ capabilities of strong magic, and second, he had surmised that this request would go some way to calm the stressed relations between the Druids and the crown. If they were made to feel indispensable and appreciated, perhaps they would be less inclined to stir up trouble. 

The king had felt confident he would solve more than one problem. 

However, that didn’t seem to be the way of it at all. In fact, the request seemed to have unsettled the Druid leadership further, which disturbed Uther; he could not understand. Perhaps he had missed something important? Shouldn’t the Druids be honoured that the king had requested such a favour? 

When asked for an explanation, a reticent and distressed Nimueh told him that this prophecy the Druids spoke of was to be the answer they had been waiting for and that whilst there would be regrettable and unavoidable upheaval initially, the prophecy would eventually right all the wrongs that were soon to take place. 

With more than a little prodding, Nimueh had also shared with him the prophecy (or a fragment of it — Uther would bet his life that his court sorcerer hadn't been completely forthcoming with him). She told him that someone with powerful magic would one day sit by King Arthur’s side and help him bring about a time of peace in Albion. 

This information gave Uther much to think about, such as … there was no King Arthur at the moment. But the always brimming-with-overconfidence king of Camelot wondered if perhaps this King Arthur would one day be his son. Probably not, because why would anyone with magic sit on the throne beside any son of his? Uther was not at all against magic per se — it had its uses — but the king would rule alone, not with a magician by his side. 

Nimueh, as learned as she was in the old religion, only ever advised Uther — she never assumed any real power in the running of the realm. 

But still, Uther would not dismiss the idea completely. Who knew what the climate would be in twenty or thirty years. By that time perhaps magic folk would truly be equals. It seemed unlikely, but Uther now sat on a throne that had not been his birthright. 

He knew more than anyone to expect the unexpected. 

Ygraine cleared her throat and Uther returned his focus to her. “She has requested an audience with me tomorrow afternoon. We shall see what she has to say,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed his wife on the lips. 

Uther’s eyes flew open, and, for a few blissful seconds, he was confused, unaware of where he was. All too soon, his sleep-clouded mind cleared and he closed his eyes again as reality crashed down upon him: the baby he and his wife had cared for all those many years ago was about to be put to death; his wife was gone, tragically taken from him twenty years in the past after giving birth to their son; and the subject of the prophecy Nimueh had reluctantly told him about was soon to arrive in Camelot.

“You’ll never know what lengths I’ve gone to to see to our son’s safety and happiness, Ygraine.”

**~*~Arthur~*~**

_“I now pronounce you man and wife, for ever and ever. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. The two of you will be committed to each other and no one else for as long as you live. You will share your bed with no one else… ever again,” finished Geoffrey, emphasising these last two words with a look of censure towards Arthur, who thought these vows, especially this last bit, seemed odd and not at all appropriate for a betrothal. “You may now kiss the bride,” Geoffrey added with a smirk._

Arthur sat up with a jolt, wincing as pain mingled with the fear that being wedded to another had invoked, but once he orientated himself and realised where he was (and wasn’t), he sighed in relief. 

A dream. Thank the gods it had only been a product of his sleep-induced mind, but it had seemed so real, even if Arthur hadn’t known who the bride was. What he did remember was staring at someone (unfortunately, not the person he was marrying) who had piercing blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and big ears. 

Just who this person was, with his inky black hair; pale, almost translucent skin, Arthur hadn’t a clue, but what he did know was that he had loved this man completely, and that the thought of marrying someone else had been the worst hurt Arthur ever felt.

He ran his hands through his perspiration-soaked hair and allowed his breathing to return to normal. Even as he calmed down, however, he knew that what had happened in his dream would be his future. Sons of kings did not marry men they loved. They aligned themselves with princesses for strategic purposes and dutifully produced children. 

But not today.

Until he had no choice, Arthur would carry on as he had. He would enjoy the occasional tryst with other royalty whilst travelling, and he would get satisfaction when and where he could in Camelot, even if the pickings were slim, such as they had been not so many hours earlier when he’d found himself being slammed into in the stables. He could still feel the hay beneath him as the large cock pushed him further into the ground.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. He really ought to be more careful. It was easy enough when he was travelling — he had years of practice and knew how to manoeuvre his way around foreign delegations and their men who, like Arthur, weren’t so interested in feminine attributes but completely enamoured with the masculine ones — but it wasn’t so easy in Camelot. 

All it would take was one wrong choice and he could find himself in a bad situation, one that could end with his death. 

Arthur never forgot about that.

Fortunately, the nameless bloke from earlier hadn’t been from these parts, which meant he hadn’t known who Arthur was. 

He had, however, known exactly how to pleasure Arthur in all the ways that mattered, which was the reason for Arthur’s current soreness. It had been a long while since someone had brought him to orgasm three times. 

The memory of the third precipitated familiar stirrings in Arthur’s nether regions, which would be welcome at almost any other time. Why must morning come so soon? He looked towards the window to gauge how much time he had before Morris would arrive with breakfast and grinned in relief when it was darker than he had expected. 

He should have time to take care of his problem.

**~*~Merlin~*~**

Merlin rubbed his hands together and blew into them for warmth before he packed up his bed roll and extinguished the fire, prepared to continue his journey. The temperature had dropped drastically from the previous day, but at least it was no longer raining.

The torrential downpours of the past two days, which had pelted Merlin and his surroundings relentlessly, had thankfully given way to hints of a rising sun, surrounded by huge, fluffy grey clouds. Their silhouettes contrasted spectacularly with the dawning sky, which was filled with hues of pinks and purples. 

Not for the first time, Merlin was thankful he had magic. How did non-magic folk survive out in the open when the elements were so dire? 

When a five-year-old Merlin had asked his mother this very thing, he remembered her chuckling and telling her son that non-magic people had been living off the land for thousands of years, and that there were no personal disadvantages to what one did not possess if one was unaware of the availability of said advantage.

When Merlin had looked up at his mother, a consternated look on his face, she had told him that one could not miss what they never had. It had taken a few seconds for this to sink in, but when it did, it had been a powerful moment for the young Merlin and had impacted his every move since. 

He had never once taken his magic for granted after that.

A crunching noise nearby interrupted Merlin’s walk down memory lane and had him on high alert, but a quick scan with his magic found nothing nefarious.

It was probably an animal waiting impatiently for him to remove himself from its domain.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he murmured to himself, a grin on his face as he set off for Camelot. The improved weather should make for a much smoother and quicker journey… he hoped.

Barring any unforeseen delays, and assuming his mother’s directions were correct, Merlin thought he should make it into the citadel by the time the sun was at its highest.

He was ready to be there, to be done with this long, arduous journey, but there was a small part of Merlin that was happy he had a few hours more to travel yet, for it meant he had time to prepare himself for the big city of Camelot. Where Ealdor was a tiny village on the outskirts of Cenred’s lands, Camelot was a bustling metropolis, the king living within its walls. 

It was a daunting prospect, relocating to Camelot, but his mother had assured him that he would be in good hands with her friend Gaius, who would take Merlin under his wing and help him assimilate. Merlin had heard stories of Gaius for as long as he could remember and looked forward to meeting him, but he couldn’t help but fret about what was to await him. 

He was not like other people. At all.

For one, he liked men, which unfortunately could get him beaten and perhaps worse if the wrong people found out. He hoped, perhaps naively, that a bigger city would allow him to blend in more than he had in the small village of Ealdor, and maybe there would be others like him.

Not that these others who were like him would broadcast that fact, of course, but Merlin wouldn’t scoff if he found someone who wanted to do things with him beneath the cover of night. To be sure, he would rather not have to hide in the dark to do anything, but he had been doing so for the whole of his life because of his second secret, magic. 

It was second-nature for him to reside in the shadows.

Unfortunately, a change of address would most likely not change this fact.

From what Merlin had heard, Camelot was not at all the place to be for sorcerers, which was why he didn’t understand why his mother had decided to send him there. Nothing about this decision made sense to him.

His mother had protected him valiantly for the entirety of his seventeen years; she had sheltered him from any and everything, to the point of it being overbearing, and she had done this for fear of Merlin’s magic being discovered.

That in itself should have deemed Camelot enemy-place-number-one in his mother’s eyes. But the fact that Gaius kept her abreast of the citadel-related news, which always seemed to include the king going on a tirade about magic should have definitely dissuaded her. Yet a fortnight earlier, after Merlin admitted to her that he’d told Will about his magic, she had decided to send him off to Gaius in Camelot. 

There was something going on. There had to be. But, whatever it was, Merlin doubted he’d ever find out.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

Arthur popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and watched with a bemused expression as Morris perused the wardrobe and retrieved two tunics and a pair of breeches. “Don’t forget to pack the white one this time. I wasn’t amused when I went to don it last week and it wasn’t there. I had to wear the brown one.”

Morris spared Arthur a quick look at this statement. It looked as if he had begun to roll his eyes. He stopped before doing so, but Arthur had seen the movement and very nearly said something about servants and expectations. The only reason he refrained was because he was on a tight schedule and had somewhere to be as soon as he finished his breakfast. 

But hadn’t Arthur shared with Morris that it was imperative to always pack his white tunic? Of course, he _hadn’t_ shared with Morris that the shirt made him feel desirable and that the boys couldn’t get enough of him in it, but Morris had known what he needed to, and the fact that he had failed to include it when he gathered Arthur’s things for his last trip was inexcusable.

Maybe it was time to find someone new. Morris had worked fine for the past two years — he had been a good manservant for the most part — but now Arthur was almost of age, and hadn’t his father said that soon he would be given another servant, one that would help him more in the day-to-day activities that had to do with his birthright?

“Yes, sire,” was Morris’s mullish reply.

“Unless I am detained longer than expected, I should be back later tonight. I will expect my rooms to be ready for my return. And tomorrow promises to be busy as it is a full training day. Father wishes for me to dine with him and Lady Helen tomorrow evening, and will no doubt try to rope me into dining with them the following day as well, but I trust you to get me out of those just as you managed to get me out of attending this upcoming execution today,” Arthur dictated dismissively as he took a gulp of orange juice and pushed back his chair to stand.

“Yes, sire.”

“Have my horse ready to go an hour before high noon. I will be in the council chamber with my father until then,” Arthur added as he wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

**~*~Uther~*~**

“Just as you thought, sire. When the sun is at its highest,” Geoffrey whispered as he presented Uther with a rolled up parchment and pointed look before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “As you requested, the declaration,” he added in his usual voice. Without another word, he bowed and retreated from the Council Chamber, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly panicked king.

Uther took a deep breath and attempted to refocus his attention on the execution. This was to be merely another of the many magic-users he had sent to the pyre, gallows, or chopping block over the years. What was one more death?

He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his eyes as wide as he could. Who was he kidding? There was nothing at all routine about this, and, for the first time ever, Uther felt ill at the prospect of what was to come. 

This boy called Merlin had better be worth it.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

To almost anyone else witnessing the always incontrovertible proceedings of another sorcery verdict, the king’s pronouncement of, “You shall be put to death at high noon,” would have most certainly come across as just another of the multitude of death sentences the leader of Camelot had doled out over the past twenty years, but Arthur wasn’t anyone. He was the king’s son.

There was something odd going on. 

From his vantage point seated at the table, Arthur hadn’t missed the fleeting look of sadness on his father’s face as the man who had raised his son to hate all things magical signed the death warrant and handed it to Sir Kay to file in the Royal Library. What had that been about? Arthur mused, thinking that maybe whatever Geoffrey had whispered to the king earlier had something to do with his father’s distress.

As Sir Kay departed after his dismissal, and as the prisoner was removed from the room, Arthur watched his father slowly stand and walk to the window at the opposite end of the room. He appeared to be deep in thought as he let out an uncharacteristic sigh.

Uther Pendragon rarely showed even the slightest hint of emotion about anything, especially in public.

In fact, Arthur could only ever recall his father showing emotion outside of his private chambers once.

It had been on the ten-year anniversary of his mother’s untimely death, which had also marked the tenth year of Arthur’s birth. The king had given a toast to his late wife at his son’s birthday banquet, and at the very end, his voice had cracked ever so slightly. 

Many of the guests hadn’t noticed the hint of a tremor in their king’s voice, but the young prince had recognised it for what it was. Witnessing that brief moment of what his father would surely have called weakness had a lasting impact on Arthur, and had led him to an act of selflessness, perhaps his first.

Later that evening, when the king put his son to bed (a rarity that only ever happened on these special occasions), Arthur, who had enjoyed his special day, had told his father he would rather not celebrate his birthday ever again because it was a reminder of what they had both lost. 

It was a sacrifice, to be sure, as his birthday was the one occasion where he received all the maternal-like attention he missed every other day of the year, but it was one the young Arthur hadn’t hesitated to make.

Even so, Arthur hadn’t thought his wish would be granted. His father had a habit of listening to what others said and summarily dismissing whatever had been asked of him, most especially when it was from his son. This request, however, was one his father had agreed to.

The king had warned his son that at some point in the future, when Arthur officially received the title Crown Prince of Camelot, his birthday would require a banquet and official celebrations for the people of Camelot to honour their future king, and that there would be no getting out of that.

_That_ day had been extremely emotional. Seeing his father in such distress then had made sense, but Arthur was at a loss as to why his father seemed upset on this day.

What was Arthur missing? Yes, the morning had been tense. A family member of the condemned had pleaded with the king to spare her nephew’s life, sharing with the leader of Camelot that her Tom was good and that he was the sole provider for his family, but those very sentiments had been shared dozens of times over the years by equally passionate relatives, and not one of them had garnered the least bit of sympathy from the king. Yet this one seemingly had. 

Perhaps his father was merely feeling unwell, or not having a good day, and Arthur was reading this all wrong. But he didn’t think so.

There was something very strange going on.

“You had no choice, Father,” Arthur said hesitantly, unsure if his unsolicited words would be welcomed or shunned. Occasionally, he felt as if his father cherished his words, but most of the time he had the impression that his father would rather not be bothered with him.

It was, of course, all down to his killing his mother by being born. 

Arthur had never been under any delusion that there was any other explanation.

“Yes, Arthur, I am aware,” was Uther’s emotionless reply, and Arthur didn’t need to see his father’s face to know that he was exasperated, perhaps rolling his eyes. “I have much on my mind today and do not have time to deal with wayward ingrates who make my job more difficult by not following the edicts of the realm. Now, don’t you have somewhere to be? I seem to recall your missive of yesterday that informed me you had pressing matters that would keep you from being here for the execution.” 

Arthur swallowed. Why did he even try? He rolled up the parchments he had been reading, stood from the chair, and left the room without a further word.

He had intended to seek out Morgana, to vent about the injustices invoked upon him by his miser of a father. He had also wanted to speak to her and get her thoughts on marriage. Not that he particularly cared, but Leon had given him the idea of maybe courting Morgana to circumvent his being paraded around like a prized possession. Leon had said she fancied Arthur and had been heard speaking to some of her friends about him and how she wished he would show interest in her. 

Arthur grimaced, unsure how he felt about this. Yes, it was a completely ludicrous idea, but Arthur had to admit that it was a better alternative than marrying a complete stranger whom he would dislike immediately.

Instead, he found himself walking in the direction of the Royal Library.

He needed to speak to Geoffrey.

**~*~Uther~*~**

Uther pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before he settled his trembling hands on the windowsill. “Oh, Ygraine, what have I done?” he muttered under his breath, knowing that his wife would be most disappointed with her husband if she were here. Then again, if she were here, Uther wouldn’t be in this tenuous situation, would he?

A knock on the door.

Uther wished to be left alone, but there were matters to be dealt with and he was the king, as much as he might wish otherwise at the moment. “Who is it?” he asked the guard stood at the entrance of the room.

“Geoffrey of Monmouth, sire.”

Nodding, Uther ran a hand down his face before turning towards the door. “Leave us.”

Uther did not wish to hear what the other had to say – he knew all too well what would come out of Geoffrey’s mouth. He braced himself as his oldest friend entered the room and approached him.

“Can you not banish him with the threat of death if he ever returns?” Geoffrey asked, his face drawn and gaunt.

Oh, how Uther wished he could. He would give anything to do that. But if he did… He shook his head.

Over the years, he had ordered the execution of hundreds of magic users and had shown them no mercy. To change tactics for one person would be his undoing as a leader, even if it would make him a man his deceased wife could be proud of.

“You know very well that I cannot do that, Geoffrey.” Uther saw the hurt in the other man’s eyes and it pained him greatly because it so perfectly reflected his own feelings. What was he to do?

“You are the king, Uther. You have the power to do whatever you want. I can give you examples of instances you have bent the rules in the past to suit you. I do understand your predicament, but if ever there was a reason for you to make a decision for yourself, not based on what others will think, this is it. Please think about this. Putting to death the young man whom your wife helped deliver will be too much even for you. I know he and his family have no idea of his connection to you, but you do. You rocked him to sleep at night, and as much as you might deny it today, you loved that little baby you and Ygraine took into your home for those few weeks.”

Uther interrupted Geoffrey's unnecessary and unwanted chatter; he was perilously close to losing control, and that was absolutely out of the question for the king, especially on such an important day. “I have made my decision and I would thank you to please… _please_, Geoffrey, let this go.”

Uther wanted nothing more than to banish Thomas and spare his life, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk saving the life of a magic-user who might claim to be the one the prophecy referred to. Uther had found Merlin. Merlin was the one. But there had been whispers recently that this person whom the prophecy was about could already be in Camelot, and Uther feared that people with magic would begin coming forward and taking credit for being _the one_. 

Thomas was a sorcerer, there could be no doubt about that, but he was _not_ the one who would one day help Arthur. 

No one would ruin Uther's plans.

Geoffrey nodded, but he didn’t look at all happy. “Per the information I shared with you earlier, you know what else today has in store. Do you honestly think an execution is the best way to welcome a magic user whom you expect to integrate himself into Camelot and befriend your son?”

Uther threw up his hands and tried to compose a coherent reply. But there was none to give. He felt himself trembling uncontrollably. “Magic killed Ygraine,” he said weakly, broken and tired. 

He turned back towards the window, wishing for his friend to leave him be, but a comforting hand on his shoulder was his answer. “He was caught, Geoffrey. My hands are tied. I cannot make an exception for anyone, and seeing this will serve the boy Nimueh spoke of well; he will discover what will happen to him if he is careless. I am risking everything to have him reside here, and yes, ordering Thomas’s execution is perhaps the most difficult thing I have had to do since the day I sent my wife’s lifeless body away, but if these two things assure my son’s successful future, I will do them.”

“Even if you lose a bit of your soul whilst doing so,” Geoffrey said sombrely. 

Uther bowed his head and began to weep. 

It was the first time he had allowed himself to release his pent up emotions in years. 

Geoffrey left after mentioning he had a scheduled meeting with someone (Uther wondered if it was with Arthur, but he hadn’t asked — he had enough to worry about as it was). Once the door closed, Uther cleared his throat as he straightened his robes and rid his face of any evidence of his moment of weakness. It would not do to have his subjects thinking him anything less than stoic and resolved.

He needed to meet with the sentries to discuss changes in the defenses of the citadel, and he should go find Arthur and somehow make amends for his behavior earlier, but first he would find Morgana and attempt to circumvent a potential disaster that had arisen. 

According to several of his advisors, his daughter had developed a most unfortunate attachment to Arthur. 

Uther sighed and wondered if he were being punished for every bad deed he had been a party to.

If she set her mind to it, Uther knew that Morgana would have Arthur eating out of her hands. And as much as his son was not anywhere near ready to marry and settle down with someone, Uther knew that Arthur would take advantage of this situation and ask Morgana to marry him because it would solve a multitude of problems for the young, confused prince.

This had the potential to end very badly for all involved. 

As ruthless as Uther was, he would not allow his children to marry one another, which meant secrets would be unveiled.

Yes, this could very well be the ruin of the almighty Uther Pendragon.

Fortunately, Morgana usually listened to what her father said and heeded his advice, even when unsolicited.

Uther shook his head and let out a mirthless laugh. He was most definitely being punished for his indiscretion, but he would never ever regret the result.

It was unfortunate that he had to keep Morgana’s true parentage a secret, but the repercussions of revealing such could be dire.

Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

He would do anything to protect those he loved.

**~*~Geoffrey~*~**

Geoffrey allowed himself to breathe normally as Arthur closed the door behind him. Earlier he had been disappointed to hear that the prince would be leaving Camelot for the day and would miss the upcoming execution, but now that Arthur seemed intent on questioning him about strange goings-on surrounding his father, Geoffrey was quite happy to see him leave.

Fortunately, the court genealogist/archivist/advisor/whatever the king needed him to be had convinced the prince that nothing out of the ordinary was going on with the king, but how much longer would he be able to do that? Arthur was nearly as tenacious as his father; he might be pacified for the moment, but Geoffrey knew that wouldn’t last.

He sighed sadly. All he had ever wanted was for Arthur to become a caring man that his mother would be proud of, and it looked as though he was well on his way to getting there. Yes, the prince had his issues: he was rather entitled and didn’t take directives from others well. He had much to learn, but at heart he was a good person who was merely enjoying his youth. With guidance, he would grow into the man he was destined to become.

He would one day become the man his father wanted him to be....

With a little help from magic.

Yes, hypocrisy was rife in Camelot, but Geoffrey couldn’t be sorry he had played his part, even if now he had reservations.

He had never been happy about the king banning the use of magic all those many years ago, so when Uther had approached him about a prophecy Nimueh had shared with him, and asked for his help with a project, a curious Geoffrey had readily agreed, even knowing at the time that he might one day regret his decision.

Today was that day, but there was little the court genealogist could do, was there? Yes, he could go to Gaius and confess his part in everything, but all that would manage to accomplish was that Gaius would confront the king and probably end up where the poor soul of Thomas Collins now found himself, so it was best he be kept in the dark.

The court physician could never know that Uther had used his friendship with both Gaius and Geoffrey to get the former to do his bidding for him.

Gaius could never know that his decision to invite Hunith’s son to Camelot had been carefully choreographed years earlier, and he could never find out that both Uther and Geoffrey knew Merlin’s secret, because if anything ever happened and the boy got himself in trouble, neither Uther nor Geoffrey would do a thing to get him out of it. 

Geoffrey felt immense sorrow for his deception, but to make himself feel somewhat better, he helped Gaius as much as he could, and he would do the same for the boy who Uther seemed to think would one day help his son bring the five kingdoms into a period of peace.

And he would continue to help Arthur in any way possible.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

Arthur settled into the saddle and heaved a sigh of relief as his horse began its canter out of the citadel. It was early autumn and the recent rains had left the surrounding land rich in greens and sweet fragrances that were more reminiscent of spring than the early days before winter settled in.

As much as Arthur wasn’t looking forward to his meeting with Cenred, he had jumped at the opportunity to miss the execution that was soon to take place. Yes, he understood why his father waged his war on magic, even if he didn’t wholeheartedly agree with it, and yes, he knew that he, himself, would most assuredly one day adopt the same stance on magic as his father currently held, but until he was required to make that decision, Arthur would rather not participate in these shows of strength.

As he rounded the last turn that would take him into the vast grasslands, he passed a boy who looked to be perhaps a few years younger than himself. He nodded and received the same greeting in return, and continued on his way, but as his horse took him away from the citadel he found himself unable to get the image of the boy out of his mind, which was odd as the two had only briefly made eye-contact.

Arthur saw vast numbers of people on a daily basis; one face seemed to blur into the next, but there was something about this face that intrigued Arthur. Had Arthur seen him before and didn’t recall? Maybe he had been at the last tourney, or perhaps he had been at one of the many executions that seemed to bring out everyone within the realm. It seemed that people couldn’t get enough of seeing others suffer. 

Regardless of whether or not Arthur had ever seen him before, he hoped to see him again.

Just maybe he could see him more than once.

Perhaps this stranger who had captivated Arthur's imagination could be the prince's next conquest.

Yes, these thoughts were possibly as ludicrous as the idea of courting Morgana, but they were lovely thoughts, nonetheless. 

Much better than imagining what was about to happen in the citadel.

**~*~Uther~*~**

Uther stood on the balcony and looked out over the masses who had come to view the demise of another magic user.

It was a good thing he had discovered the perils of magic. It had been too late for his dear Ygraine, and that was an oversight Uther would never forgive himself for — he had been seduced by its power, like so many others before him — but he had eventually seen the truth, and now it was his most fervent wish to see magic banished forever from the land. 

As he was about to begin his speech, he saw Geoffrey on the periphery of the crowd. As expected, he didn’t look happy, but Uther couldn’t worry about that. For better or worse, the events of the day were on schedule, and all Uther could hope for was that everything he had so meticulously planned for went to plan. If it did, all his machinations would be worth it. If it didn’t, well, Uther would more than likely find himself suffering the same fate as Thomas Collins.

He covertly searched the crowd for the boy called Merlin. He had never seen him in person, but his spies had given him a fairly in-depth description. 

Uther fervently hoped the boy would make it in time to see what was about to happen. He needed the boy to see this. 

His life could very well depend on it. 

And Arthur’s.

Uther was about to put to death someone he and his wife had once cared very much for, and he was doing it to make a point to not only his subjects, but to the boy with magic who was about to enter Camelot.

The Golden Age of Albion wasn’t at hand quite yet, but it was on its way, and in that pursuit there were strict rules the boy would need to learn how to circumvent stealthily in order for Arthur to one day rule over a peaceful kingdom.

If Uther weren’t so tense and overcome with grief, he might have been giddy at the prospect.

Camelot wasn’t exactly teeming with bandits and the threat of imminent takeover, but it had its share of problems, and the promise of peace in the distant future had sounded rather wonderful all those many years ago. 

Uther had found his glory in conquering Camelot, but he worried for his son and had an idea that Arthur’s road ahead would not be black and white, so when he had heard the prophecy about a sorcerer who was the most powerful person to ever walk the earth, he had paid attention and done his homework. Yes, as Geoffrey often told him, he had searched high and low to make the prophecy come true, so he was creating whatever happened and that it was his choices and not merely a prophecy anymore, but Uther didn’t care if the prophecy was a choice or if it was preordained. All he cared about was making his son’s future a good one.

It was perhaps wrong that Arthur wouldn’t have a say in what happened, but that was how it was. Uther’s parents hadn’t asked their son if he wanted to set out on his own at the age of fifteen to find his way.

One did what they had to do to survive, and maybe his parents hadn’t much cared about their son’s fate, but Uther did care about his. 

So much so that he was willing to invite magic into his kingdom.

Love was mystifying. Uther had always known this. 

It made one do the strangest things.

Such as following the progression of a strange young child as he morphed into a boy who was in the midst of becoming a man.

Over the years, the king had kept close contact with the boy called Merlin via various spies, and had been heartened to learn that as the boy grew older he was, for the most part, careful and kept his magic close to him. He wasn't immune from getting himself into trouble, but Uther refused to focus on that; he hoped the boy would be cautious within the walls of Camelot. And even if he did make a mistake once here, Uther was confident that Gaius, who would be the boy’s guardian, could get him out of it. 

Uther wasn’t sure, but he hoped he had thought of everything. He had worked tirelessly to bring all these pieces together, and the best part was that not a soul, other than Geoffrey, knew of any of this. Well, Leonidas had known, of course, but he had most unfortunately met his untimely death a few years before. Uther still mourned his friend’s loss, but he was overjoyed that his former best friend’s son was one of Arthur’s most trusted friends.

Uther again scanned the crowds carefully and spotted Gaius, looking stoic, yet sad. Uther understood. The court physician had, after all, been a purveyor of magic once upon a time. He had to miss it. Had their roles been reversed and Uther’s magic been deemed illegal, he would have been prostrate with grief and would have been indignant over its removal.

Yes, Uther did understand. He was not a complete tyrant, despite what others said about him.

Movement to his left redirected Uther’s attention to the prisoner as he was led towards the dais. Uther swallowed. He needed to focus. He could not allow himself to think about the past. He must look forward to the future. In this pursuit, he again found Gaius in the crowd and focused his attention on him.

Yes, things seemed to be coming together nicely, but Uther did find himself worrying more and more. Had Gaius cottoned on to what the king was doing? There was no reason to think he had, but the court physician was wise and Uther often found the man scrutinising him with an odd look on his face, as if he were attempting to fathom his king out.

Did he know what Uther was doing?

Had Merlin’s mother confided in him any concerns she had regarding her son coming to Camelot?

But Gaius would certainly have let on long ago had he realised that the king knew whom Balinor had been with in Ealdor, or at the very least, he would have stopped at nothing to prevent Merlin’s coming to Camelot. So of course Gaius must not be aware of anything. He couldn't know that, once Uther was given reports of the unique abilities of the five-year-old son of Balinor and Hunith, he had made up his mind that it was Merlin whom Nimueh had been speaking of.

Merlin’s progress through the years had done nothing to diminish the king’s thoughts and interest, although he couldn’t deny that the boy had become more brazen with his magic and seemed not overly concerned when he’d been caught performing fellatio on another boy. 

So no, this boy called Merlin was not the ideal choice for a friend of the king of Camelot’s son, but he was the only powerful person Uther had seen who fit the prophecy, so for better or for worse, he was the one.

Uther had great hopes that his son and this boy would become great friends. 

There was no other alternative.

But first, Uther had to figure out how to introduce the two. This would be tricky, but Uther hadn’t come this far to give up now. He would think of something.

He had to. 

His son needed Merlin.

But Arthur wouldn’t be the only beneficiary of this manufactured friendship. 

Not that Uther had foreseen this or even cared, but Merlin stood to gain mightily from this arrangement as well. 

As the boy had proved recently, he wasn’t the most discreet of persons. It was almost a foregone conclusion that he would end up being reckless once or twice or three times, which could be fatal for him, but if he had Arthur as a friend, he would surely be protected. 

Uther often felt estranged from his son these days — he no longer knew him as he wished he did — but one thing he knew without a doubt was that his son would protect any friend of his. 

If Merlin accidentally revealed himself, Arthur would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.

And if they did indeed become close friends, perhaps they could become more.

Uther briefly shut his eyes as he mentally shook himself. How had he even come to this point in his life where he was going against every tenet he believed in to see to his son's future happiness?

Oftentimes, Uther despaired that Arthur was his son, but at the end of the day, Arthur was born of his father and mother’s love for each other, even if magic had helped. Regardless of his choices, the young prince deserved to be happy.

Even if it was with a boy.

Uther swallowed.

Over the past several years, it had become clear to him that his son preferred the company of men. This might have upset the king under different circumstances, but the knowledge of a prophecy that brought with it a boy put things in a different light for Uther. Arthur would one day be expected to marry and produce an heir, and he would do this unless fate had other plans for him, but that did not mean he could not have someone in his life who satisfied him.

A drum came to life and interrupted Uther’s thoughts.

He looked over to the soon-to-be-decapitated magic-user he had once deigned to care for and glared as he cursed him beneath his breath for what was about to happen.

“I’m sorry, Ygraine,” Uther whispered before beginning his speech, “but I didn’t know he had magic. He should have been more careful. If people refuse to follow the laws of Camelot, then they must suffer the consequences.”

Uther really did hate everything that had to do with magic.

Magic had promised him a family yet had broken his heart and left him a shell of his former self.

And he detested that his son was about to become friends with a magic user, but he would not discount the prophecy. It seemed as unreal today as it had then, but Uther had not forgotten the power of Nimueh. She had never been wrong with her prophecies, even if she had been deceptive and hadn’t told Uther the true price of giving him and Ygraine a son.

Returning his thoughts to the present, Uther decided he had waited as long as was permissible and continued his speech, reciting the same words he’d said numerous times over the years. They rolled off his tongue, but he would be lying if he said this time was no different than the others. He glanced over at the condemned and an image of a tiny baby in his wife’s arms emerged. Uther remembered how perfect the two of them looked together.

But that was then. This was now.

Uther had a job to do.

He finished his speech, which he thought went over rather well, and was preparing to return inside when an old woman began shouting at him, raving about the injustice that had been bestowed upon her son and how she would get her revenge.

This took Uther by surprise, but a set of blue eyes and a messy mop-top of brunet hair quickly took precedence, and Uther shut out the old hag’s words as he studied the strange boy who looked shocked and somewhat fearful.

“Yes, keep this in mind, boy, it will serve you well in future,” he whispered beneath his breath as he returned his attention to the nattering old witch who was now threatening him.

**~*~Merlin~*~**

It was most disconcerting to have your guardian say to you, “Well, we’d better keep you out of trouble; you can help me until I find some paid work for you,” Merlin thought as he made his way to Lady Percival’s and Sir Alwin’s to deliver their potions. Especially after witnessing the unfortunate execution the day before. Camelot was proving to be every bit as formidable as he had feared, and he knew he would need to be on constant guard.

But he had to admit that it was a pleasant change to be here, doing chores for Gaius rather than mucking out after the pigs and chickens in Ealdor. At this time of day back home, Merlin would already be soaked head to foot in perspiration, pig poop covering the bottoms of his shoes and most other parts of him. How many times had his mother wiped off his face and told him that he was destined to be a dirt magnet? Merlin grinned. He sure did miss her.

As he made his way back towards Gaius’s, he noticed a group of boys, seemingly led by a rather handsome blond bloke. They were ganging up on another boy, who didn’t look at all happy.

It was none of Merlin’s business, and he really should continue on his way, but how many times in the past had Merlin been that boy? How many times had others teased him and made him feel less than he was? Too many to count, and Merlin would be damned if he allowed this exchange to go by without a word. 

And wasn’t the blond the same person who had passed Merlin the day before?

Merlin sighed. After that brief encounter, he had imagined a more clandestine meeting between the two of them at the top of the castle. Pity, that. Any previous attraction he’d had for the other boy drifted away.

He looked around for a second or two before he made a decision. His mother would be disappointed with him if he were kicked out of Camelot, but Merlin thought that would be better than him standing by and watching as another was bullied.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough,” he said much more brazenly than he felt. The other boy was intimidating, but it wasn't like he was the king or anything. What was the worst that he could do?

**~*~Uther~*~**

Uther descended the stairs and stealthily made his way to the cell that the boy Merlin currently occupied. He was thankfully asleep. Uther studied him.

He wasn’t much to look at, but looks weren’t why the boy was here, Uther mused, a satisfied grin breaking out across his face. According to Arthur, the boy had accused him of bullying Morris, had told him to stop, had been insolent, and had insulted him. 

He was a feisty one. 

Exactly the sort that Arthur needed. 

Yes, Merlin would do just fine.

And Arthur had said something about having seen the boy as he’d left to go meet with Cenred, and if Uther didn’t know better, he’d say that his son was intrigued.

Yes, Arthur did like a good challenge, and from what Uther had seen so far, Merlin would definitely be a challenge.

Yes, a very good challenge indeed.

Now, if only Uther could come up with a way to get him and his son together. Had it been a few weeks previously, he could have asked Merlin to help with the royal household when they prepared for the large feast, but there was no need for an extra hand to help. In fact, Uther was seriously considering reducing the number of his household staff. He didn’t want to, but there had been a few breaches recently and Uther needed to cut down on the number of people who had access to the castle. It was just too bad that he couldn’t start with Morris….

But on second thought… maybe he could.

Uther had to try hard to withhold a chuckle; he couldn’t believe the idea hadn’t occurred to him before.

Arthur had been hinting for months that he wanted a new manservant. Uther had agreed that at some point this would happen, but he had been busy and hadn’t thought about that conversation since it happened.

But...

Uther looked back at Merlin and pondered the idea of Merlin being his son’s manservant.

On the surface it was laughable; Merlin looked as if he might blow away if a wisp of wind came through, and it was unlikely that he knew the first thing about protocol and how to serve a prince. However, it was a fail-proof way to get the boy into his son’s life.

That decision made, Uther now only needed to think of a way to make this happen. It would no doubt be tricky, but Uther Pendragon was up to the task.

As soon as Lady Helen and her party left in a few days, Uther would shift his attention to this and make it his number one priority.

**~*~Merlin~*~**

His third day in Camelot and Merlin had already been imprisoned and put in the stocks.

His mother would be so proud.

Merlin chuckled at the absurdity of this thought as he made his way to Lady Helen’s room to deliver her potion. His mother would likely give him that familiar look, the one that foretold of a long lecture, and Merlin knew that he would deserve it.

He should have stayed out of what was obviously none of his business, but he had never been one to meekly stand by and allow others to be bullied. Of course, when it came to himself, Merlin rarely ever bothered— he hardly saw the point in defending himself, as building up one’s own-self worth served no one. He was what he was and if others didn’t like or accept him, then so be it. He had a hard enough time keeping his magic and sexuality a secret; he hardly had the energy to react to taunts of big ears and goofiness.

“Merlin?”

Merlin looked behind him and smiled as he saw Gwen running to catch up with him. Besides Gaius, she was the only one who had spoken to him in anything other than condescending tones. He very much appreciated it.

“Hi Gwen,” he replied, grinning, happy that he seemed to have found at least one friend. 

“Where are you off to?” she asked as she re-situated the basket in her arms.

“Gaius asked me to deliver a potion to Lady Helen.”

“Last time she was in Camelot, I heard her sing. She has the voice of an angel. Will you be at the banquet tomorrow night? I will, of course, with the Lady Morgana, but if you are there, come find me and I’ll let you in on who is who and who to and who not to talk to.”

“Thanks.” Merlin nodded, wondering how Gwen could fit all those words in without taking a breath. “See you later,” he added as he made to turn to go up the steps, and he was both heartened and very much chagrined when she gave him a coy little smile that he couldn’t mistake the meaning of anywhere. He smiled back.

If only he liked girls….

Oh well, he didn’t, and that was that.

But at least he had made a friend to talk to.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

Morning training over, Arthur and a few of his mates were taking a well-deserved break by perusing the lower town, which they did on occasion just to see what was going on and who was getting up to what. It was a bit of fun for the young knights and prince before their meeting with Sir Kay.

Rumour was that his father’s first knight was to announce who was to travel with him to meet with the King of Nemeth in a fortnight. Arthur was all but assured of a spot because of who he was, but he did have some doubts because a handful of older knights had recently made a fuss about how Arthur never had to do anything because of who his father was — they were under the impression that he didn’t work as hard as the others did to get picked to join the more senior knights. It was completely untrue and perturbed Arthur to no end, but there was very little he could do about it (other than ranting to Leon), and his father had told Sir Kay to make more of an effort to not single out Arthur.

It wasn’t easy being the son of a king, but overall Arthur knew how fortunate he was, so as frustrated as he was with his detractors, he did what was asked and expected of him. That was all he could do.

He spotted Gwen getting water and thought about going over to ask if Morgana was free to meet with him, but he remembered she had a dress fitting, so that would have to wait.

Girls and their pretty things.

Arthur did not envy her; he loathed being fitted for clothing. Thank goodness for his cape — it made anything he wore look regal, whether it be a dress uniform or a regular, everyday tunic. Of course, he would have to dress up somewhat for Lady Helen’s performance, but that was not until the following evening. 

He would need to remember to make sure Morris picked up his new tunic from the seamstress before the day was over, as the next day was sure to be a busy one for everyone as they prepared for the evening’s festivities. Arthur had heard a rumour that his father had spared no expense in procuring rare fruit from Cenred’s kingdom. Arthur had to hand it to his father — he didn’t shy away from inviting controversy, did he? Then again, it would not be Uther Pendragon whose life would be forfeit if King Cenred discovered that fruit from his land had been stolen.

Unfortunately, the king of Camelot considered these matters trivial; all that mattered to him was that he had a beautiful opera singer to entertain.

Speaking of… Arthur had managed to evade his father and Lady Helen so far, but Morgana had told him when they’d met for breakfast that Lady Helen had asked about him, which was odd. Why would she ask about him? Yes, Arthur vaguely recalled talking to her when she had last graced Camelot with a visit, but from what Arthur remembered, the vaunted opera singer hadn’t spared him much more than a sweet smile and a pinch of his cheeks. 

It was probably down to the fact that he was no longer the _little Arthur_ he had been last time. Arthur sighed. Why did women have to be funny like that? Just because he was almost of age and would one day be king didn’t mean he wanted old ladies to throw themselves at him. 

He didn’t even want older men throwimg themselves at him.

But it was just part of it, he guessed. His father had told him on his last birthday that this would probably start happening and that he would need to smile and be firm but polite when he gently let the ladies down. 

Arthur had very nearly asked what to do about the men, but he’d wisely decided not to. He was almost certain his father knew that he preferred men and simply chose to ignore it, but Arthur was wise enough to realise it was best not to press his luck. His father could, if he should decide to do so, come down on his son much harder than he already had about this.

And Arthur did not want that, so he had held his tongue.

And speaking of tongue, that bloke called Merlin was out and about again, licking his rosy red lips as he made his way towards the opposite end of the courtyard. 

Gaius must have appealed to his father to let him out. Figured. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. His father always had had a weak spot for Gaius. Sometimes Arthur wondered if his father weren’t hiding his own secret. Maybe Arthur should ask. On second thought, maybe not. Regardless, for now, Arthur would settle for having a little fun.

Merlin liked to spar, so Arthur decided to see how far he could go.

**~*~Merlin~*~**

Merlin lay on his bed, staring at the wall. Coming to Camelot had been a mistake. There was no way he would be allowed to do any magic here — Gaius had made that point crystal clear. And it seemed that he had made an enemy of the king’s son. Yes, Prince Arthur had let Merlin go earlier, but that didn’t mean anything; he probably merely felt sorry for him because he knew Gaius was about to lecture him like a child.

And why had Gaius been so upset? Surely he understood that it was difficult for Merlin. But it seemed he didn’t care.

But that was okay. No one other than his mother and Will had ever cared about him before, so it wasn’t as if Merlin were expecting to have people flocking to him to be his friend now. At least he had made one friend. 

Gwen was a sweetheart, and Merlin knew that they would get on well. And earlier he had seen the Lady Morgana walking down the steps and she had smiled at him. Not that that meant anything of course — she was a Lady, after all, and being nice to everyone was what she was meant to do.

But he really had hoped to get on with Gaius as well; never having had a father, Merlin had allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have someone kind of like a father in his life — it would have been nice.

Merlin missed Will, who always knew how to make Merlin smile when he was feeling down. He would tell Merlin awful jokes, and if that didn’t work (it almost always did) he would resort to tickling Merlin. 

Merlin felt himself blush.

It had been one of these episodes a year earlier that had been the catalyst for Merlin and Will to kiss for the first time, and things had moved quickly from there. It hadn’t taken long at all for Merlin to decide he loved Will and that he never wanted to be parted from him. 

But all of that had ended when his mother decided Merlin would be better off in Camelot. Merlin had shut down, feeling as if his entire world was being ripped from him, but Will had taken the news like the best friend he was: he smiled a lopsided grin, shrugged his shoulders, and said that Merlin deserved better than him and would surely find someone more worthy of his love in Camelot. 

Merlin wiped away a tear. There would never be anyone more worthy of his love than Will.

The door opened and Gaius entered, carrying a bag of what Merlin guessed was filled with potions and tinctures. And just like that, Merlin’s anger and disappointment began to dissipate, although he was still confused, and he very much felt alone.

No matter what happened, Merlin knew that Gaius would be there to help him. 

His mother would have never sent her son to Camelot otherwise.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

Arthur was careful to make no noise as he made his way through the empty corridors. It was late, and although most everyone should be asleep at this hour, he did not want to run into anyone; they would most certainly inquire about what he was doing out after the gates had closed.

He couldn’t very well tell them that he was going to the stables to see if just maybe that boy he’d spent the other night with had come back. It was ludicrous, of course, because the boy had said he was leaving Camelot the following day, but Arthur really needed to feel the heat of another body at the moment.

As he made his way to the staircase that would lead him outside, he saw someone else at the bottom of the steps.

Merlin.

What was he doing out at this hour? Whatever it was, Arthur knew he was up to no good. The boy had already proved how little respect he had for authority. He was most likely about to do something illegal.

At this thought, Arthur took a shaky breath. Just what was _he_ about to engage in if it wasn’t illegal?

As far as he knew, sticking your cock up another bloke’s arse was about as illegal as it got in Camelot. Yes, murder was illegal, as was treason, and magic, but if Arthur was caught doing anything illegal, he knew that his father would rather he be caught doing any of these three. His father might _know_ about his son’s preferences, but knowing and having proof were two completely different things.

Arthur hurried his steps and caught up with Merlin. “What are you doing out at this late hour?” he asked haughtily.

Merlin glared and continued on his way. “I’m running an errand for Gaius,” he said without missing a beat. “What are _you_ doing out at such a late hour?”

“I don’t have to answer that, Merlin.”

Merlin shrugged. “Suit yourself, _sire_.” he murmured as he turned away from Arthur, but he stopped and looked back at him as if he were in his way.

“You’re not going down to the dungeons are you? I would have thought you’d had your fill of them last night,” Arthur joked.

“Ha ha,” was Merlin’s retort. 

“You don’t want to be caught out here after dark, so whatever you are doing you best do it quickly and return to Gaius’s,” Arthur said nonchalantly. He really didn’t care if the boy were caught out after curfew; it would serve him right to get put in the cells again. 

“I can take care of myself, thanks. I don’t need Prince Arthur to protect me,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, then excuse me, Merlin. By all means, as you were. But when you end up in the cells again, do not come running and crying to me.”

“As if I would come running to you for anything.”

Arthur thought he should probably end this now and continue on his way. But he hadn’t had this much fun in a long while. “Well, be on your way then. I’m guessing you are going to meet a girl. I saw you and Morgana’s maid being all chummy earlier.” Arthur couldn’t help the smirk. “You sure didn’t waste any time finding someone.” If this grated on Arthur, he hoped it didn’t show. Why couldn’t he merely smile at someone and have them fawn all over him like Gwen had with Merlin?

Merlin pinked, and it was very clear he was embarrassed, but he glared to try to cover it up. “I am not going to meet Gwen, or any other girl for that matter.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve? Maybe it is a boy you are going to see?” Arthur knew better, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Do you perhaps like it when the boys kiss you and tell you how pretty you are?” Arthur opened his mouth to say more, but the look on Merlin’s face stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked devastated. “Erm, sorry, that was out of line.” Arthur knew he had gone too far. 

Had he inadvertently just found out that Merlin, like him, preferred the company of men?

“You think so? Why would it be, _Prince Arthur_?” Merlin said, ire in his voice. “You obviously take pleasure in bullying others, so why not me?” Merlin didn’t say another word as he began walking in the direction he had been heading before Arthur had stopped him.

Arthur jogged up so he was side by side with Merlin. “For your information, Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, as if he were speaking to a simpleton, “my father hired Morris two years ago to help me. One of the methods of helping me is to be a target. It’s harmless, no matter what you think. If you were using your eyes, you’d have seen that I was not throwing at him, I was aiming at a target on his back. He is paid well for his service.” 

Merlin shrugged. “Whatever you say, mate, but he didn’t look happy. I know what it’s like to be bullied and wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Perhaps he isn’t as well-placed in society as you, but that doesn’t make him any less of a person.”

“I never said it did,” Arthur replied as he stood a bit straighter and tried to look imposing. How dare Merlin accuse him of being a bully.

“You might as well stop trying to justify your actions, _sire_,” Merlin said exaggeratedly. “Nothing you can say will make me think what you did to that boy was okay. And why do you care so much what I think, anyway? You had me sent to the cells. I’d still be there if it weren’t for Gaius pleading my case with your father.”

“I don’t care… not really.” But Arthur was feeling rather uncomfortable. He had only meant to rile Merlin.

“Hm,” was Merlin’s noncommittal response. 

“You should hurry up and finish whatever it is you are up to, Merlin. I won’t defend you if you are caught doing anything untoward.”

Merlin shook his head and looked sad, but it was clearly an act. “Oh dear, whatever shall I do? I don’t know how I’ll ever survive without your help.”

“Well, for one thing, you’ll be careful and remember where you are. I don’t know where you come from, but you are now in Camelot. I would hate to see you end up as entertainment for my father.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“If I need to tell you, then forget it. You probably deserve whatever it is you get. Now be on your way,” Arthur finished harshly, not quite understanding why he had this all-consuming compulsion for Merlin to like him and to want to be his friend. 

**~*~Merlin~*~**

Dragons were not at all what they were made out to be.

Merlin couldn’t stop muttering under his breath, exasperated and confused. 

How was it that he had ended up in Camelot, where magic was outlawed, trying to make sense of what a dragon had told him?

It was completely mad, and it was more than probable that Merlin was on the path to the dreaded chopping block if things continued as they were now.

So much for him keeping a low profile.

Perhaps he needed to leave. Yes, he had promised his mother he would stay and give Camelot a chance, but he had been here only a few days and already he felt ostracized. 

At least in Ealdor he had felt somewhat free — the threat of death had not hung over his head like a noose. He had been able to breathe.

Here, in this huge citadel, Merlin felt the walls closing in. Gaius had drilled him about the perils of magic, telling him how much trouble he could get into if caught; the king’s son had warned him about being careless in his extracurricular activities; and now here he was, leaving a deep cavern where a dragon had just informed Merlin that Prince Arthur was his destiny….

Erm… what?

Merlin’s head was spinning.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Ealdor, but when he realised he didn't have a choice, he had hoped Camelot would be a place where he would be allowed to live the life he needed to. Nowhere in his mother’s pitch about how wonderful Camelot would be had anything about a prophecy been mentioned.

Frustrated, he kicked at a loose cobble and cursed as pain lanced through his foot.

“I see you listen about as well as I do,” said a quiet voice from behind him.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder and grimaced when he saw Prince Arthur. He should probably think of something witty and sarcastic to say in reply, but he no longer felt like being funny. “What did you mean earlier when you said you’d hate to see me as entertainment for your father?” Merlin asked. Not that he needed an answer, because he was pretty sure he knew, and not that he cared, because he didn’t, but for some reason it was as if Arthur could read him like a book, and it disconcerted Merlin immensely. 

Arthur shrugged and toed his boot in a crack as he seemed to think. “Just that you need to be careful what you do, and where, and with whom,” he answered.

Merlin turned and studied the top of Arthur’s head. “Should I leave Camelot?” he asked, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, although he felt quite out of sorts at the moment. If Arthur had guessed his secret … that other secret of his that could get him killed, well, then it wasn’t safe. He suppressed his magic easily enough, painful as it was, but as he had found out in Ealdor, quelling that other part of him, the part of him that so longed to be loved and taken care of, was not so easy. 

Arthur looked up, his face now pale, and shook his head. “Just be careful.”

“Like you?” Merlin asked, a small smile on his face. His eyes roamed over Arthur’s breeches, which had hay clinging to them. “Sneaking off to the stables to meet a girl?” he asked, but when a pained look flitted across Arthur’s face, Merlin wished he hadn’t said anything. “Sorry. It’s just that my mother caught me in our neighbor’s barn more times than I can remember. Of course, me and Will...” Merlin stopped abruptly. He had almost said too much. Erm, no, there was no _almost_ about it. He had definitely said too much.

“I am Prince Arthur, Merlin,” Arthur said with a frown. “One day I will be king. Neither my father nor anyone else would care one bit if they caught me sneaking around after curfew to meet a girl. My father would probably call for celebrations.” 

Merlin had no idea how to respond. Things were getting much too serious, but at least Merlin now thought he understood. “No offense meant, but I don’t think I’ll follow your lead. Besides, I’m allergic to—”

But just what he was allergic to was cut off when Arthur crowded Merlin against the wall on the other side of the steps and kissed him. It took Merlin by surprise, and initially his mind went blank before he gave himself over to the warmth that was in his arms. He relaxed into the intense kiss for several seconds before reality hit him and he remembered just where he was and with whom. He pulled away abruptly, guessing he looked as scared as Arthur did.

“Bloody hell, Arthur!” Merlin said, not bothering with titles, etiquette, or whatever else he should have been cognizant about where the king’s son was concerned. “Anyone could see us here.” He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. “Maybe you can sweet talk your way out of getting executed, but do you think your father would be so lenient with me?”

“Yeah, don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry. You should go.” Arthur wiped his own mouth and took a deep breath, but he did not look at all sorry.

Merlin frowned, but nodded. He hated to leave just when things were getting interesting, but there was no alternative. He had only just arrived a few days ago and as much as he hadn’t wanted to leave Ealdor or Will, now that he was here he found himself wanting to stay. “Yeah, I should go.”

“Erm, unless you want to come to mine. I know a way to get you up there without anyone seeing,” Arthur said, hope in his voice. He looked around, as if waiting for someone to jump up and call him out.

Merlin should say no. Everything in him screamed for him to do so. This, getting involved with the king’s son, was about the absolute worst thing he could do, but Merlin wanted this. He so wanted this. Arthur was the first person in ages that had seemed to challenge him. Will was great and he was everything Merlin had ever wanted in a lover, but Arthur was unlike anyone Merlin had ever known. He was forbidden fruit, and perhaps that was why Merlin decided to throw caution to the wind.

**~*~Uther~*~**

Uther closed the window and let out a hearty sigh as he returned to his chair and sat down, contemplating what he’d just seen. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He had to admit that most of him was disappointed. Yes, he had known and accepted that his son preferred men, but he had always hoped that it was merely a phase and that one day Arthur would wake up and realise that men were not the answer and that a woman was.

Alas, that seemed not to be the case. But Uther had foreseen this issue and had seen to it, hadn’t he? He had brought the boy here… for other reasons, yes, ones that initially had nothing to do with his son’s happiness and everything to do with his son’s safety, but what mattered now was that Merlin could end up solving two problems for Uther. 

He couldn’t have written a more perfect scenario for this imperfect situation had he tried.

“Yes, Ygraine, it appears that all my hard work has begun to pay off,” he said as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, recalling the genesis of this moment.

_Uther read the small piece of parchment, standing to remove his crown as the last of the guests left the room after the knighting ceremony. He handed the crown to Leonidas before removing his robes as well. “I need to go have a talk with Arthur. According to Geoffrey, he and your son are down in the kitchens, where they are no doubt holding court with the cooks.” Uther grinned with pride at his best friend. “Apparently they have discovered the delicacy of pickled eggs and, for the past week, have asked cook to prepare them as their nightly snack.” _

_With that, he left the room, and was unsurprised to see Geoffrey standing just outside the door. “I take it this is not only about my son?” he asked curiously as the two began walking towards the kitchens._

_“I have spoken to Gaius, sire, regarding the matter we discussed earlier. I am disappointed to say that he has no intention of ever allowing Hunith’s son to set foot in Camelot. He said it would be akin to signing Merlin’s death warrant to bring him here.”_

_“Geoffrey, you must be persuasive with Gaius — do not take no for an answer. Convince him that he can guide the young boy and help him master his magic. I have faith in you, my friend, but regardless of how you convince him, he must never find out that I am orchestrating Merlin’s future arrival. The future of the kingdom is in the balance and will surely be destroyed if word of my deceptive practices gets out.”_

Reopening his eyes, Uther scrubbed his face with his hands as he stood. Ygraine had missed seeing her son's every milestone, and because Uther had been missing his wife, so had he. 

Arthur had grown into a fine young man, and Uther felt as if he had barely been there.

Maybe Merlin would be there for his son.

**~*~Arthur~*~**

“You requested my presence?” Merlin asked as he was escorted into Arthur’s chambers by a sullen Morris.

“Leave us.” Arthur stood and frowned as he watched a dejected Morris leave his chambers for the final time as his manservant.

As much as he had wanted a new manservant, Arthur did feel somewhat sorry; Morris had been, for the most part, a faithful, discrete help to him. But, the time had come for a change... and what a change it was, Arthur thought as he turned to look at Merlin, his expression blank. 

He cleared his throat and attempted to sound and look stern and serious, as if he were talking to Morris and not Merlin. 

It was just too bad that had no chance of working. But Arthur had his part to play and he would do it. He had no choice. “I have no idea what my father was thinking, making you my manservant,” he said, shaking his head with a look of incredulity on his face. “I thought I was getting an upgrade, but you look even less fit than Morris.” He rolled his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. Anyone else would look scandalized after being spoken to as Arthur had Merlin, but unsurprisingly, Merlin did not. In fact, he appeared as if he were about to burst out laughing.

Arthur allowed a small smile. 

Merlin would be the death of him yet.

_“If we expect to do this again, Merlin, we must play our cards carefully. My father must never know. We need to make him think I loathe the very air you breathe, even in the privacy of my chambers. You never know when prying ears are listening.” _

“Yes, sire,” Merlin replied facetiously. Even a child could fathom out that there was not an ounce of sincerity in his voice. “Your faith in my abilities to be your manservant is overwhelming. If I might be so bold, compared to Morris, anyone would be an upgrade.” Merlin let out a yelp when Arthur’s hand landed rather harder than he’d probably intended on his arse. “Hey, is that how a prince is meant to treat his servant?”

“Probably not," Arthur said as he looked around before returning his attention to Merlin, “but that is exactly how Arthur Pendragon treats his lover when he makes a cheeky remark that he shouldn’t.” Arthur gathered Merlin in his arms and kissed him softly before gently pushing him away. “Later,” he added firmly.

Merlin leaned in and kissed Arthur’s collarbone before kneeling and pressing his mouth to Arthur’s covered erection. 

“Merlin!” Arthur screeched. “What part of us being careful did you not understand? Did you hear a word I said earlier?”

Merlin looked up at Arthur lovingly and swallowed. “Yeah, I heard. Do you want to test me to make sure?” he asked as he lifted Arthur’s tunic and went to work on one of his nipples. 

What had Arthur got himself into? Leave it to him to have landed himself a sex fiend. “If I have to watch you burn, hang, or have your head chopped off, I’ll find a sorcerer to revive you so I can kill you myself.”

“Not gonna happen, Arthur.”

“And you need to cease using my name. My father will not look kindly on my servant being disrespectful.”

“Yes, _sire_,” Merlin said, his face completely serious as he let Arthur’s shirt fall back down. “Have you ever been ridden, _sire_?”

Arthur did not deign to answer as he pulled Merlin up into his lap. “I am meant to be showing you around my chambers and telling you what you can and cannot do in my employ so you’ll know what I expect when you arrive to work in the morning. It isn’t easy working for me. I am a very demanding master, or so I have been told. My father seems to have made a rather rash decision, which he has been known to do on occasion. Do not think that he can’t reassign you, however. If he thinks for one second that you and I are doing what we are, he will send you to your death. I will not lose you now that I’ve found you. Understood?”

“Do you always talk this much when you are about to have sex?” Merlin asked as he undid Arthur’s breeches with trembling hands before unlacing his own. 

"I think, Merlin, that you need to do something about those breeches of yours if you want to ride me.” Arthur chuckled at the small glare he received, and when Merlin waggled his eyebrows, Arthur knew without a doubt that he was lost in this beautiful man before him. But that was more than fine with him.

Merlin leaned in and kissed Arthur on the nose before he reluctantly got off of Arthur's lap. He made a show of stripping slowly, teasing with his every movement. He threw his red neckerchief to Arthur and smiled wickedly when Arthur crooked his finger towards him.

Arthur had plans for that neckerchief, and if Merlin thought he was getting it back, he better think again.

And then Merlin was back where he belonged, warming Arthur and smiling at him as no one had ever done before, his hands holding onto Arthur's shoulders. He balanced himself as Arthur helped to guide him down onto his already prepared cock. "You never answered my question," Arthur said huskily as he watched with lidded eyes as Merlin made the sweetest noises as his already lubed arse took Arthur in bit by bit.

“Yes, I heard what you said. Understood, sire,” Merlin said breathlessly, looking as if he had found the secret to life as he concentrated on the task at hand.

Once they were both comfortable and Merlin was filled with all the glorious cock that Arthur had to give him, Arthur lifted Merlin out and pulled him back in. He briefly wondered what the hell he was doing, but he decided he didn’t want to think about it. Merlin felt too good to waste thoughts on why the two of them were doing this. Instead Arthur concentrated every thought on Merlin, who was beautiful as his arse slowly enveloped Arthur's cock again. Sex had never felt this good. It was as if the two were meant to be together. They fit perfectly.

Arthur temporarily released his hold of Merlin, took the neckerchief from the back of the chair, and carefully tied it around Merlin's neck. He had initially wanted to blindfold Merlin, but if he did that he wouldn't be able to see those beautiful eyes, and he wanted to see every second of bliss on Merlin's face. Maybe they could do that later, but for now Arthur admired Merlin's creamy white skin that was splotched here and there with reds and pinks from their exertions. The bright red of the neckerchief contrasted perfectly and Arthur thought it a rather endearing look as it continued to rub against his face as Merlin rode him and continued to keen so prettily.

“So good, sire, so good,” Merlin said as he increased his pace, his movements becoming somewhat erratic.

Arthur brought their heads together and kissed Merlin with everything he had in him, and he felt that Merlin was doing the same. It was a needy kiss, sloppier than any kiss Arthur had ever experienced before, but it was also far more satisfying. 

It was just about perfect. 

The only thing that would have made it more perfect was if Arthur could take Merlin to the rooftop and shout out across the citadel that at long last he had found the person he wanted to spend forever with. Yes, they had only known each other a few days, and Merlin was a handful and would continue to be one, but Arthur knew. He knew without a doubt that _this_ was right. How could there ever be anything wrong with what he and Merlin had together?

This was an overwhelming thought for Arthur, especially when an image flitted through his mind of dark hair, and of a longing that made Arthur so very sad.

He remembered waking up the other morning, feeling the same.

Arthur lifted his head and stared at Merlin, and when Merlin caressed his cheek, and looked at him questioningly, Arthur had to swallow. He wanted to speak, but he couldn't.

Had Merlin been the boy in his dream? 

Everything in Arthur said yes; he wanted Merlin and the boy he had loved to be one in the same, but of course Merlin couldn’t be him — it was ridiculous to think otherwise.

Wasn't it?

Arthur wasn't certain of much in his life, but one thing he knew without a doubt was that he had no intention of ever letting Merlin go.

His father would just have to accept that this was how it would be.


End file.
